it exists, it's real, it's possible, it's yours
by kamlo-ren
Summary: He may not be the defender of truth and justice like Red is but that's because he doesn't really see the need for it...There ain't no use trying to turn bad people good, but Frank sees the merit in protecting the good that is out there. And Karen Page is just about the best good there is.
1. do not let the hero in your soul perish

" _Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach."_

 _-Ayn Rand_

Frank is fully aware of how creepy it is incessantly follow a woman who told you you were dead to her around- he don't need no freakishly angry, perpetually drunk bird who picked up a car the first time they met to tell him that. He's got shit to do, people to kill. Still, somehow, he always ends up here; tailing her all the way from the Bulletin to her apartment- just to make sure she gets in safe. Because Frank owes Karen Page his life. If one were being particularly poetic, one might say that Frank Castle owes Karen Page his humanity but he ain't, so he isn't. His head is on a constant swivel for any trouble, for anyone that could hurt her, for someone to fight to ignore the swirlings of feelings that are like a punch in the throat every time he sets his sights on that pretty face of her's. That's how he notices the Devil of Hell's motherfucking Kitchen doing the same thing he is- protecting Miss Karen Page.

Huh.

Red is just sitting there as Karen finally makes it into her building, happy as can be, completely oblivious to the two vigilantes protecting her like a couple of whipped guard dogs. He turns his head just as Frank walks up because Red never lets anyone forget that he has super-fuckin-sonic hearing, says, "Frank?"

"Red." Now, you see, Frank isn't an idiot. He is a soldier, a survivor, and you don't get to be either of those things without having something rollin' around up there in your skull. So Frank hears the question in the way Red says his name, hears the barely contained fear and paranoia. Not for the first time he wonders exactly how much shit Karen gets up to if goddamn Daredevil feels like he has to watch her back. Frank'd march over to her apartment right now and demand an explanation if he thought it would end in any other way than Karen using that cool little .380 to put his sorry ass down. "Not your usual scene."

"No it isn't." The other man takes a breath, seems to fortify himself. "But it seems like it's yours." Frank says nothing, just shakes his head and runs his hand over his hair. Goddamn he needs a haircut. Ain't any of Daredevil's business what the Punisher gets up to. Frank helped him, still sometimes helps him, because the Code demands it. You never leave a brother hangin', not in a warzone. And that is exactly what he and Red are: brothers in arms waging a war they're both too stubborn to admit they're not enough for.

"Ain't none of your business what I get up to, Red. I got my job and you got yours."

"Since when has protecting Karen Page been _your_ job? Since when has she been yours to protect?" He angrily demands, stepping up close to him. Frank just looks at him, seeing everything and putting it away for later. The Devil may wear a mask but that don't mean he ain't just as easy to read as the rest of 'em.

"Like I said, it isn't any of your business." He turns his head to the apartment building, counts three windows to the left and five up, where Karen's got the light on for the time being. Every other light is off except for her's and ain't that just the sweetest little metaphor? Karen Page- a light in the darkness when everything else is bleak. "She's a friend."

Red smiles sardonically, it's the first time Frank has seen the kid's teeth without them being bloodied. "You don't have friends, Frank."

He shrugs. "Maybe not, but she...that woman's the closest thing I got. She don't need any unnecessary bullshit, Karen don't deserve that." Not that they spent a lot of time talking about her personal history, but Frank got enough to know that she's been around. She's seen shit. Done shit. But she's still full of light and compassion and strength and...and _beauty_. Ol' Frank Castle, he doesn't really get to see as much of that as he used to. So he walks her home. He makes sure no one messes with her. He may not be the defender of truth and justice like Red is but that's because he doesn't really see the need for it. The world is a shitty place full of shitty people and trying to hold everyone to an ideal that hardly exists as it is doesn't work. There ain't no use trying to turn bad people good, but Frank sees the merit in protecting the good that is out there. And Karen Page is just about the best good there is.

"You should stay away from her." Red says it like Frank's just gonna agree, salute him, and be on his merry way.

Well, newsflash, Santa Claus, Frank Castle barely followed orders when he was a Marine. "Why the fuck you care man? What's she got to do with you? Because the way I see it- I'm up here because she would fuckin' shoot me if I was down there. Now, that's her right and honestly, I get it. She's done with me. Said so herself." Red's back tenses and he turns away from him, like he struck a nerve. "Now, ya see, that's why I'm up here Red. What'd you do that you're in the same position?"

"I, um," Red wets his lips. Frank catalogues the nervous tick. "I lied to her. I mean, I did, and then I didn't. I thought she would understand, like Ele-never mind. It's not...that's over now. She won't see me but I needed to know that she's safe. I got her into this mess, she's my responsibility."

He cocks his head, raises an eyebrow. "Karen ain't no one's responsibility, kid. Don't do her the disservice. You care about her. You want her to be safe, ain't nothin' wrong with that." In the back of his head, he remembers the word _projection_ and tries not to think about it too much.

"Yes. Yes, I care about her. Which is why I'm telling you to keep your distance, Frank. Karen does not need your own personal brand of violence corrupting her anymore than it already has."

"I have been keepin' my distance, dipshit, but thanks for the advice."

Red turns his head, angling his ears to catch something that Frank has longed since learned to never try to hear. Red's a freak of nature, ain't no doubt about it. "I gotta go. The police are having trouble three blocks west." He goes to leave but turns back. "I meant what I said, Frank...just stay away from her, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Red. Have fun fightin' the good fight." Frank keeps his eyes on Karen's window, where the light's gone out. Good, it's gettin' late. He can tell she needs to sleep more, can tell that she's running herself ragged trying to keep up with the crime in Hell's Kitchen, trying to tell her story.

If he ever got the chance to talk to her, he'd say that he really liked her first article. The one about being a hero. Now he wonders if she wrote it for Daredevil, doesn't know why it even occurred to him that she would write about him. For as much as Karen seemed to understand him, Frank was never under the impression that she thought he was anything other than a monster. He don't take no offense to it, because that's what he is. He's a monster. But he's a monster with a righteous mission, nothin' more or less, and that's what Frank likes to believe she sees.

It's important that she understands. That she knows. Because, even if no one else understands, even if Red thinks he's batshit, even if people hate him- it don't matter if Karen Page gets it. No one else's opinion matters because she understands him so much better than any of the rest ever will, because if Karen Page believes in him then he's not as far gone as he thought it was.

If Karen Page believes in him, then Frank Castle's got a chance.

* * *

 **Hey guys, it's kamlo-ren. I'm posting this story on my old fanfiction account to contribute to the Daredevil fics on here! This is actually me, not someone stealing the story!**

 **Have a wonderful day!**

 **-Geez/Kamlo-Ren**


	2. the not-quite and the not-yet

" _Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all." -Ayn Rand_

One day he gets tired of just watching over her. It's been such a long time since he's spoken to anyone other than the occasional waitress or Red, since he's spoken to someone who knows him like Karen does, that Frank's starting to feel a little inhuman. It's been dawning on him that doing this job without having anyone to keep you grounded is what separates the Captain Americas from the Punishers and while he's fine with what he does, completely unrepentant of his actions, in the oddest of moments he'll remember how he felt when Karen Page smiled at him in that diner. In those moments, he wants more than anything to be worthy of that smile.

Also, completely unrelated, Red told him to keep his distance and Frank may consider him a fellow soldier in this war but that don't mean he's about to take orders from an altar boy.

Since Frank's never been a coward a day in his life, he saunters right across the street and into the building, not really thinking about how she's going to react to him knocking on her door.

He hears her shuffle towards the door, hopes she'll check the peephole instead of just opening the door. There's a moment where she must be and Frank feels oddly proud of her for being a rational human being before she frantically opens the door. "Frank? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She grasps his sleeve and pulls him in roughly, those pretty blue eyes scouring him for any injury. "Answer me, Frank."

He shakes his head, runs his hand over his hair, suddenly wondering what the actual fuck he's doing here when she explicitly told him she didn't want anything to do with him. "No, uh, I'm fine."

"Yeah, I've heard that before." She mutters, shaking her head. This close, Karen looks even more tired than he thought. Her pale face is grey with exhaustion, blonde hair lank and lifeless. She looks like hell. "Then what are you doing here then?"

Well ain't that the million dollar question, sweetheart. The answer is simple: he wanted to see her. He wants to find out if he can make her smile at him again, wants to know he's not so far gone that he can't make a pretty girl's eyes brighten. "I just-"

"No you know what? It's been months, Frank, literal months and now you show up in my apartment- expecting what, exactly? For me to smile and make you coffee? For me to forgive you? That's not how this works!" She's pissed, and he understands. All she does is go to work and go home. He hasn't seen either of those lawyers around her in weeks and she doesn't have any other friends. She's alone and she trusted him so it makes sense that she's angry. He should handle this calmly, speak softly, get her to trust him like the last time he was here. But suddenly, he's the angry one. She told him she was done. He probably would've stayed away forever if not for the nagging pain in his chest that demanded he get close enough to count all the shades of blue in her eyes. She was the one who ended it. She was the one who closed the door.

"Nah, fuck that. You don't get to yell at me for abandoning you when you told me to stay gone. You said I was dead to you, Karen, I was just followin' orders."

"Then why are you here?" Karen seethes, stepping closer, looking him straight in the eye. He'd never realized they were the same height. It's nice. Makes him feel like they're equals, even if the breadth of his shoulders overshadow her.

So he shrugs, all of the fight leaving him, all of a sudden just exhausted by everything; staying away from her but never really leaving her alone, erasing the scum of Hell's

Kitchen despite Red's best efforts, he's just tired. He just wants some peace. The only time Frank has felt peaceful since his family died has been when Karen Page was talking to him. "Got tired of missin' you, I guess." _I didn't want to be alone._

Karen stops short after he says that, apparently at a loss for words, before she just pulls him into a hug. She's got her slender arms wrapped around his neck, just holding him. It takes a minute for Frank to remember how to hug someone, to remember how another person's arms can bring comfort. Then he snatches her up, pulls Karen against him, an arm banded around her lower back, the other cupping the back of her head. She smells like sunshine. "This doesn't mean you're forgiven, Frank."

He huffs out a rusty laugh and reluctantly lets her go. "Of course not."

Karen smiles, and her entire face brightens. Frank feels a weight lift of his shoulders at the sight. They maintain eye contact for a few moments before she turns her head, motions toward the dinner table in the corner. "Have a seat. I'll make the coffee."

"Thought you said that wasn't happenin'."

"Thought you said I should stay away from you."

He studies the floral pattern of the table cloth, it's worn but still pretty, hides what probably is a horrendously used table from the wobbling it does when he rests a heavy arm on it. "Yeah, well, I meant that. Just seems like _I_ can't stay away from _you_."

Setting two cups of coffee down, Karen gives him a sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "You seem to be the only one." She takes the cup into her hands and curls into herself, as if drawing the warmth of the coffee into her body will somehow make her feel less alone.

Frank almost wants to make his excuses, leave, and go threaten those two dickhead lawyers for leaving her alone. "Don't got no friends at that paper you're workin' at now?"

To her credit, Karen doesn't even ask how he knows where she works, just takes a sip of her coffee. "Yeah but...they don't know me, not really, not like-"

"Murdock." Frank tilts his head, eyes calculating. "Didn't I tell ya to hold onto that?"

"Matt isn't who I thought he was." Those pretty blue eyes well up with tears and Frank wants nothing more than to throttle a blind man. "He kept something...huge from me. Something life changing. I can't be with someone who hides an entire part of himself from me."

He shrugs, rubs his knuckles. It's his only nervous tick, something he does when he's uncomfortable and anxious. "Everyone has secrets, Karen. Part of being with someone is accepting that it'll take some time for you to learn all of them."

" _You_ don't keep secrets from me. You've never been anything but honest."

Frank smiles ruefully, shakes his head. He can feel his split lip ache from the grin on his face. "I didn't so much tell you my secrets as you brought them kicking and screaming out of the house you broke into."

Karen has the decency to look sheepish because she's a good person and that's the kind of thing good people do, they feel bad about breaking the law. Frank hasn't felt anything like that in a long time. "No. I found out about your family's death on my own but you're the one who told me what their life was like." She looks down, fiddling with the handle of her coffee cup. It says _Don't talk until I've had my caffeine_. "You've never lied to me about who you are or tried to be anything less than yourself. Matt has never been honest with me the entire time I've known him. The man...the man I had feelings for never really existed. I mean he's-" Her face shutters and the words die in her throat. Frank waits for her to speak but she doesn't say anything, just looks down and to the side.

He shifts in his seat, brings her attention back to him. "Does he know?" Frank doesn't know what happened to her but he does know that Karen Page has been through some shit, that her conscience isn't as clear as she'd like people to believe. There's this weight to her sighs and a world-weariness in her smiles that tell him it was bad. It was really bad.

"No. No one knows. I've never told anyone." Something in her face tells Frank that she doesn't want it to be that way anymore. She wants to be free of the secrets weighing her down and she wants him to be the one to break the chains.

It's Frank's turn to look down, to be uncomfortable in his skin. He isn't a good person, he's not a good man no matter what he was before and she shouldn't trust him like that. He doesn't deserve this. But he wants it. He wants so desperately for her to trust him and smile at him and understand him that he can't breathe most of the time. She doesn't know it but Karen Page has The Punisher at her beck and call, as much as he can be, as much as he allows, and he's okay with that because Karen's a good person. Because Karen won't use him like Fisk. She won't use his emotions against him for her own personal gain. In fact, Karen won't use him at all. "Frank?"

He shakes his head, jolting out of his thoughts and sees her looking so beautifully worried that his heart breaks. "Yeah. Sorry. I just...look, uh, Karen, you can-you can tell me about it. If you want. I won't judge or think less of you or anything." That rusty laugh breaks out again. "I ain't got any fuckin' ground to stand on when it comes to that sort of thing, sweetheart."

Karen smiles, quick and relieved. "Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it." In his mind, Frank thinks _Anything for you, darlin'._ He swears that he can see the light in her eyes dim as she prepares to tell her darkest secret. It almost makes him want to take it back. "About half a year ago, when we were looking into Wilson Fisk and Union Allied, I-I guess I got on his radar. Back then, he had this second in command named Wesley who he had do all his dirty work for him and this time, that dirty work was me. They kidnapped me and took me to some building, threatened me, and when I didn't cooperate Wesley was going to kill me. But he got a phone call and-and I grabbed the gun that was on the table and I shot him. Over and over. And then I took his body and dumped it into the river so no one would find it." She stares straight into him, their eyes locking, and all of her is trembling with the force of the story she just told him. Frank, on the other hand, remains completely still. "I killed someone, and it doesn't matter if he was going to kill me or that he was ruthless and corrupt. That doesn't matter because if Matt can look me in the eye and tell me that you're a monster then where does that leave me?" Her face scrunches up and she starts crying, big gasping sobs like in the diner when he slaughtered two men ten feet away from her. It makes his insides shrivel, makes a part of him want to go and die, watching Karen cry like that. He hates it.

Frank abruptly stands and goes to his knees beside her, grasping her neck in his hand, pulling her into him until their foreheads touch. "You listen to me, Karen, _listen_. You're not a monster, okay, sweetheart? You're not. Murdock wouldn't think so either and if he did than he's an idiot. It was you or him, Karen, and I am so sorry you had to make that choice, that you had to cross that line, but it's over now. You're here and that fucking bastard isn't. You made the right call. You're not a monster." He keeps his voice soft, like how he'd calmed Lisa down when their dog Butch got run over by a car. Back then, he'd convinced his little girl that the world hadn't ended. Frank hopes he can do the same for this beautiful shining light in front of him. "You get me?"

As Karen nods he takes the time to look her over. Her nose is runny and her eyes are red. She looks completely wrecked and yet he swears that some of that brokenness he saw in her eyes from the very first moment they met is gone now. "Yes. I understand." She's got that sad smile on her face again, the one that makes his heart twist. "Thank you so much, Frank."

There are some things Frank Castle never thought he'd feel again. He never thought he'd smile with actual joy ever again, or that he'd ever get the chance to laugh with someone. Once his family was gone, stripped away from him in an instant, he gave up on trying to be the kind of man that stopped tears rather than starting them. He never thought he'd get the chance to feel the way he feels when Karen looks at him how she's looking at him right now, like he's worth something, like he matters. He never thought he'd get any peace ever again but he's got it right now, with her. So he smirks, brushes his lips over her forehead, says "Anytime, sweetheart", and sits with her in the silence of her apartment, listening to her breathe.


End file.
